Save My Soul (16 page)

He gripped her leg before he surfaced and pulled her into his arms.

She breathed through the pounding of her heart. “Don't do that again.”

“Don't do what?”

“Disappear.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” he said with a grin. “The sex is way too good.”

He tightened his grip and dragged them both under.

• • •

For the first time in weeks, Maggie didn't dream about spiders. In fact, she slept like she ate a poisoned apple, and when she woke, a shirtless Jordon sat at the end of the bed.

“You don't eat meat.” He placed a bowl of fresh fruit on her comforter-covered belly.

She tried to decide whether he was being facetious. After all, before she climbed into his bed she refused to have sex with him again until they set some boundaries. It seemed rational at the time. With her confliction and his confession, Maggie wanted their next encounter to be deliberate. Between gentle kisses and heavenly full body hugs, Jordon tried to convince her that being together was a good idea, but Maggie fell asleep before she could agree.

She woke with a head no clearer than the night before and a body addicted to his touch. If Jordon was half as sexually frustrated as she was, eating meat most certainly had a double meaning. She raised her brows in question.

“What do you eat on Thanksgiving Day?” he clarified.

She poked the fork into a piece of mango and slipped it over her lips before speaking around the passion fruit. “I don't celebrate Thanksgiving.”

“What?” He snagged a red grape out of her bowl and popped it into his mouth.

“I haven't celebrated a major holiday since I was in elementary school.” She bit into another forkful. “Crystal thinks any holiday not tied to the cycle of the moon is an advertising ploy or a religious brainwashing and therefore not worthy of celebration.”

“No stuffing? No cranberry salad?” His eyes bugged. “No Christmas? Didn't Santa come to your house?”

Maggie chewed and swallowed. “Nope. I wasn't allowed to participate in the rape of consumers and the division of the populous.”

He shook his head. “God, you were deprived. I'm surprised you weren't homeschooled.”

“Crystal said having a freethinking soul in the bowels of society's stronghold on the youth movement was much too valuable an opportunity to miss.”

He took her empty bowl, placed it on the bedside table, and ran his hand along her arm. Her skin reacted like the addict it had become, rising to meet him, trembling at the prospect of more.

He brightened, his eyes sparkling in the morning sun. “Did you start many revolutions?”

“None. I couldn't get anyone to listen to me. They all thought I was strange,” she said, savoring the tiny tickles his hand left behind.

He bent down and smacked a kiss to her lips. “Then it's settled. I was going to insist you go home to be with Crystal for Thanksgiving, but after hearing this, you're staying with me.”

An odd rush of excitement swelled at the idea, but then the doubt that plagued her off and on all night resurfaced.

This isn't a game, Maggie. If you're not careful, if you don't maintain distance, someone's going to get hurt.

She smiled despite the frown in her heart. “I'm sure you'd rather spend the holidays with your family.”

He lifted a shoulder. “I am my family. My mother died, and I don't speak to the rest of them.”

Ouch
. Professionally, Maggie understood the deep scars of family derision. Personally, she stood on the precipice many times. She knew how strong a person had to be to make difficult relationships work. “Why don't you talk to them?”

He turned to face the sunrise. “I don't want to talk about it. I want to shower.” He stood and headed across the room. “And I want you to join me.”

She watched the muscles of his body contract with each step until he disappeared into the master bath. She could make him tell her. All it would take would be a simple reminder.
If you love me, you would tell me.
But he didn't love her, and she never used emotion as leverage. Of course, that was the therapist speaking, the same therapist who chided her for being in Jordon's bed. The professional voice taunted her.
Why don't you look for perspective in your own bed? With all the questions crowding your mind, why are you still in his?

Sighing, Maggie stared into the sun until her vision grew splotchy. As irrational as it seemed, she was here because she wanted to be. Even more irrational, she wished to be struck by a bolt of lightning and left with indisputable truth:
He loves you. Now, love him back.
And yet, if that happened, she'd be no better off, because she still wouldn't know how to be in love.

Maggie struggled with the voices in her head until water hissed from the bathroom pipes in the wall behind her head. Jordon was waiting. She had a choice to make. She could stay and analyze like a good therapist, or she could get up and join him like a woman gone mad with lust.

Tossing the covers off her naked body, Maggie stepped into the sun.

• • •

Jordon lathered his hair and stood under the spray of hot water. He figured she would join him eventually. Maggie might not be willing to admit that falling in love with him was a possibility, but he knew she felt a powerful pull. All that resisting, and yet the moment they touched her eyes rolled back and her lips parted to draw in more air. He felt it, too. It was like gravity, holding them together even when they wanted to be apart.

When he opened his eyes he saw her through the clear glass, standing outside the shower watching him, and his heart raced all over again. His gaze travelled her bare body, and the breath caught in his throat. She was strong, lean, bright, and flawless. While he'd never been a small breast kind of guy, his hands twitched and his mouth watered. Maggie changed his mind about a lot of things.

She pulled on the glass door and stepped into the streaming water. Watching her open her mouth to the spray made him hard. He grabbed her wrist, tugging her closer, wanting to give her the world. He'd start with sharing the Thanksgiving holiday, which was appropriate, because he'd never been more thankful than he was right now. Wouldn't the world be surprised to find out there was hope for Jordon Kemmon's cold heart?

He followed drops of water as they slid off her long lashes. She didn't believe he could love her, and, frankly, the revelation came as a shock to him, too. Neither one of them seemed like the loving type. He was too busy. She was too … opposed to the notion. He wasn't exactly sure what her hang-up was, but he figured enough sex and enough time together would change her mind. The sex wouldn't be a problem, but the time could be.

Jordon would have to work as hard on this relationship as he did on his career. A couple years ago he would've kicked his own ass for thinking such a stupid thing. But now? Now things felt different, and while he couldn't be with Maggie all of the time, he could make sure their time together mattered.

He took a deep breath. “I don't talk to my family, because … well … I was drafted in the first round, right out of high school. I'm backtracking here. Bear with me.” He smiled and flicked his thumbs across her upper arms. “My father represented me during the draft, because he didn't want to give anyone else a cut. He ignored my requests to make college part of the contractual equation, and instead went for a bigger signing bonus.”

She flattened a hand on his cheek, and the gesture encouraged Jordon to continue with a story he hadn't told in years.

“Dad disappeared after the first payout. He took the money and ran. I could've fought it legally, but I was shocked … and confused. I had all sorts of advice from all sorts of people, and what it came down to was that I'd been swindled by my own father, and I was stuck living inside his dream.” The muscle in his cheek twitched, and he didn't try to hide the anger.

“Wasn't baseball your dream, too?” She traced the line of his jaw with her other hand and where she touched, he softened.

“I lost my entire childhood to baseball. I spent more hours on the couch with ice on my arm or traveling to games than I did playing with friends. My father was determined to make his sons professional athletes. I was standing on first base in Omaha when I realized what I wanted more than anything else was to go to law school and advocate for kids like me. So I quit.”

Her hands stilled. “You quit baseball?”

“I went to college and then law school. I don't have a single regret.” He didn't think she bought it.

Maggie dropped her hands to his pecs and her eyes narrowed. “Did you ever see your father again?”

This time, the muscles in both his cheeks pulsed, and he had to run his hands over her wet back to keep his fists from clenching. “Only on television during a news story about how he negotiated a contract for my brother straight out of high school.”

“No.”

“Yes. And I'd spent six months trying to guide Grey where pro ball was concerned, only to have him throw my advice away to be cheated by my dad.”

“He cheated your brother, too?”

“Once a cheater, always a cheater, but I don't know for sure. I haven't heard details. People know not to talk to me about it. Sometimes a reporter will start with the questions, but those guys don't live long, and they serve as a reminder to the rest.” Jordon let a lazy smile cross his lips, and he slipped one hand around her waist to play with her breast.

“You're not scary.”

“Not now, but I am when I want to be, and that's the way I like it. The world I work in can't see weakness.” Jordon reached for the body wash with his other hand and squirted a puddle into his palm. He wasn't going to let his father ruin anything else. Maggie got what she wanted. Now it was Jordon's turn.

Rubbing his palms together, he spread the soap over her shoulders and across her breasts. “See what happens when I show a little weakness?”

“What happens?” She wrapped her hands around his penis and pulled.

“People take advantage of me.”

At the moment, he wasn't complaining.

Maggie was definitely taking advantage of Jordon, and she spent the better part of the day worrying about it. She knew he didn't mean his comment in the shower to be anything other than sexual banter, because he didn't know what she knew. He didn't know romantic love was a myth. He didn't know the power of transference. And he didn't know the truth about Carlos.

“I feel sick inside.” Maggie cringed at the sight of a fish hanging off the end of Carlos's line. “How can you do that?”

He shrugged. “Help me let it go.”

Maggie wrinkled every possible crease on her face and zipped her sweatshirt against the cold air. “I'm not touching it.”

“Then I guess he'll have to eat it.”

She turned toward the silky voice that had been stuck on a conference call for the last few hours. “Hardy, har, har.”

“Here.” Jordon pinched the line and pulled it toward him. He gripped the small catfish behind the head with his free hand and twisted the hook from the creature's mouth before he tossed it back into the lake. “See, no drama.”

“Easy for you to say. You weren't hooked. I bet the fish was screaming on the inside.” Maggie felt grumpy — grumpy about the fish and grumpy about her reaction to seeing Jordon. The mere sight of him had her heart palpitating. Seriously, she wondered if she might be destined for a complete physical and mental breakdown. Her moods dove, then climbed. Her body froze, then boiled. And her thoughts rode the same crazy waves.

Jordon took a step toward her with his fishy hands in front. “Is that what happens when you're hooked? You scream on the inside?” His lips curled.

She backed away. “Don't touch me with those hands.”

He lunged for her, wrapping his arms around her waist as her right heel dipped off the back edge of the pier. She hadn't realized how close she was to falling.

“Now what do you think about my fishy hands?” Jordon asked, laughing. “Good catch, huh?”

Smiling with relief, she threw her arms around his neck and rested her chin on his shoulder. When she opened her eyes, she came face to face with a stunned Carlos. It didn't take long for the reason to register. The closer she got to Jordon, the more chances there were for her to spill Carlos's desperate secret.

Before Maggie could think of something comforting to say, Carlos moved further down the pier. “I'm going home.”

Jordon released her and spun around to face Carlos. “That's great news, buddy. I'll have a ticket purchased. When do you want to leave?”

“I have a ticket. I leave after Thanksgiving and come back after New Year's.”

A strange feeling crawled across Maggie's skin, and for some reason she wondered if Carlos was telling the truth. As she studied his somber face, another worry weighed on her mind. What would Carlos's departure mean for her and Jordon? With Carlos gone, her job was done.

Jordon didn't seem bothered by the same thoughts and feelings. He brightened and smacked Carlos on the back. “We got a lot of work to do before you leave. It's a good thing I called Petey.”

Carlos nodded and, guided by Jordon's strong arm around his shoulders, moved toward the house. Maggie couldn't help but notice the sad shuffle of the young man's feet.

A couple hours later, she understood why. Petey was the pitching coach for Carlos's team, and there was nothing quite as eerie as an empty major league baseball stadium in the middle of November.

Carlos stood on the white rubber atop the pitching mound. He took so many deep breaths his shoulders looked like they were bobbing on ocean waves. He drew his arms over his head and kicked his knee high in front of him before he rocketed the ball toward home plate in one blurry motion.